


don't forget me (i won't remember anything else)

by stevesblindspot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, Sorry!, Suicide Attempt, Violence, anyway fuck a canon, endgame? she didn't happen., its a happy ending i promise lol, of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-04 16:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18608344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevesblindspot/pseuds/stevesblindspot
Summary: College!au that follows Steve and Bucky's trajectory, loosely based on their storyline in the mcu but with a lot of canon divergence. They're headed to university in modern-day New York, and all they're looking for is a degree for each and the chance to live comfortably. Of course, they're also madly in love with each other, and oblivious that the other feels the same way, and terrified of ruining their friendship. Plenty of smut, plenty of tears. I've felt cheated ever since Civil War so I finally decided to do something about that.Updates every Friday!





	1. Chapter 1

_"If there is anything left to say, it is this:_  
_I would have found you anywhere._  
_I will find you anywhere."_  
\- Venetta Octavia, "Orbitals", from _Prelude to Light_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Aha!" Bucky thrust his fist in the air triumphantly. Steve saw, out of the corner of the eye, that clutched there was a thick envelope identical to the one Bucky brought over an hour ago. Steve's mail came later in the day, so once Bucky had retrieved his from the mailbox, he'd come straight over to distract Steve while they waited.

With a college admissions envelope in each hand, Bucky clambered over the back of the couch and plopped down next to Steve. He handed the purple-lettered paper that had Steve's name on it over to Steve, and poised himself to open his.

"Ready?" he asked. Steve just groaned. "C'mon, they're the same shape and size and everything. Either we both got in to NYU, or we both didn't. But judging by the fact that they're fatter than my cat, I'm gonna guess it's the former."

"Yeah," Steve mumbled. He felt himself go white as he slipped his thumb under the flap of the envelope. "On three?"

"One, two... three!" Both boys tore the packets open and scrambled to unfold the letter, letting all the other material slide off their laps and onto the floor.

Steve couldn't breathe as his eyes raced across the page. 

"Did you--?" Bucky leaned over so that their shoulders were touching and tilted his head to read the paper in Steve's hands. He let out a whoop. "We both got in!"

"Yeah," Steve said shakily. "Yeah, we did."

"Be excited, it's college! We're going to have so much fun." Bucky had already dove for the rest of the envelope. "Here's housing information... suggested packing list... and tuition... tuition costs."

Steve had gotten to that page, too. He swallowed, feeling tears sting behind his eyes.

"I got my football scholarship," Bucky said softly. "Did they approve your aid?"

"They did," Steve said. "But it's... it's not enough. I submitted the app before... before Ma died, and then with all the funeral costs, and without her income..."

"So appeal it."

"They're closed now, though. The office."

"Well, no shit, idiot, I meant tomorrow. They won't say no, not to the most promising artist in all of New York--no, the whole country." Bucky clapped his hand onto Steve's shoulder. "C'mon, let's clean all this up. You can worry about it tomorrow. Tonight we have to go out and celebrate."

"No, I really--I really feel like I should start working on this today--" Before Steve could even get the whole sentence out, his acceptance letter and all the other paperwork had been snatched out of his hands. They were now dangling far out of his reach, hung high over one Bucky Barnes' head. Bucky was grinning.

"No you don't. Go on, wash up, we're going out. Put on something nice, and don't get into fights tonight, punk." Bucky placed both their papers on the counter.

"Jerk," Steve replied, reflexively, feeling the sadness ebb somewhat, only to be replaced by an odd longing.

 _It's not odd,_ Steve amended to himself as he let Bucky drag him to his bedroom to pick out a nice shirt. _It's just unwelcome._ He shed his t-shirt somewhat reluctantly, and let Bucky help him into a collared button-down. Bucky's fingertips brushed his arm, and Steve shivered.

How could he call a feeling odd when it was so familiar? He felt his stomach twist into a pretzel as Bucky chatted about a girl he knows frequents the bar they were headed to tonight ("She's a little older, but hey, maybe she'll buy us drinks. Can't ID us if we're dancing!"). He smiled and tried to match the excitement he was showing.

Because Steve was in love with Bucky, and somehow that was still the hardest thing--not the fact that he'd be out in a big crowd tonight when he was five foot four and so easily trampled, not the fact that he might not actually be able to go to college after all--and Steve had no idea what he was going to do.

* * *

By the time they got downtown, the city was rushing to life. They almost got plowed down by at least six taxis just trying to cross the street, but finally, they made it to the bar. It was a restaurant and bar, but also kind of a club--at least, that's how Bucky had described it to Steve when they were on the subway. And he was kind of right--there were small tables, and a dance floor, and also a bar that had strict NO MINORS signs up. 

"I think we just seat ourselves," Bucky said, veering to a table by the window that had two menus laid out. 

"This place is kinda... fancy," Steve said nervously, tugging at his shirt collar.

"Nah," Bucky said. "We're in the university district, everything is cheap here."

Steve scanned over the menu and decided to just get some soda in the end. Bucky ordered fries, and together they watched as the establishment slowly filled up. Bucky kept craning his neck to keep an eye on the door. Steve nursed his soda, letting Bucky do most of the talking and trying not to let his brow furrow as his mind wandered back to his tuition.

"There she is!" Bucky said suddenly, sticking an arm in the air and waving.

"I think I might turn in early," Steve said at the same time.

Bucky gave him a rather sad look. "Oh c'mon, at least say hi. She brought a friend."

"I don't think she or her friend want to meet me," Steve said, trying to hold back the derision from his tone.

"Just say hi," Bucky coaxed. "Here they come." He turned to look beyond Steve, mouth stretching into a charming smile. "Hey there!"

"Hey, Buck." A pretty brunette stepped up beside Steve. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it tonight. I take it you got accepted?"

"We both did," Bucky said, in a valiant effort to include Steve, even though both the brunette and her friend had glanced over him as if he were nothing--Bucky's kid brother, perhaps, tagging along when no one wanted him to.

"Congratulations," she said, her eyes passing over Steve quickly once again, just to acknowledge him, before turning back to Bucky. "I can get you a drink, if you pay me back and pay for mine."

"Easy," Bucky said. "Steve? Do you want anything?"

"I'm good," Steve said. "It was nice meeting you two, but I think I should probably head in for the night."

The girls pouted obligingly, but Bucky actually looked genuinely put out. "Are you sure?" he asked, his brow creasing just a little, his eyes widening just slightly in what Steve could only really read as a threat to give him his puppy-eyes. 

"Yeah, no, I should go. Maybe take a second look at those NYU papers." He gave Bucky rather hard look, and Bucky dropped his gaze.

"Well, I'll come by tomorrow morning to get my things," Bucky said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Steve replied, slipping out of his chair and towards the door. As he shrugged his jacket on, he heard one of the girls say, "So, what's your poison?" while the other giggled. He hunched his shoulders. He tried to tell himself it's just because of the cold, but he didn't believe it.

* * *

There was a message blinking on the landline when Steve got home.

"Damn," he mumbled as he draped his jacket over the arm of the couch. "Probably one of Ma's friends again..." He considered leaving it to the morning, considering he'd had a rough enough day as it was, but he knew he wouldn't want to wake up to it. Grudgingly, he crossed the room and pressed play.

"Hello, I'm calling from the office of Abraham Ernskine to inform you that your application for the Ernskine Endowment Fund has been accepted. Dr. Ernskine was very impressed with your essay, so we are delighted to tell you that we will be paying any part of the tuition that your institute of choice does not already cover with its aid program. We will be sending along more details in the mail, but we wanted to call you at once just in case your decision process was hinged on our acceptance or denial. If you have any further questions, you can contact..."

Steve couldn't focus on the rest of the message. He stood, staring back into his own shocked eyes in the glass of the microwave door. The elation would come later, but right now he was frozen, and just trying to remember to breathe, and trying not to cry.

He could go to college. He didn't need a trust fund, or a healthy body and a sports scholarship to do it--he'd done it all on his own, just a skinny kid from Brooklyn, whose only superpower was a pencil in his hand and some paper beneath it.

After he was showered and ready to settle in for the night, he knelt briefly by his bed, head bowed in prayer. _I did it, Ma,_ he thought, eyes scrunched tight. _You can rest easy now, don't worry so much about me no more. You did enough of that when you where alive. I did it, and I'm going to be just fine._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just saw endgame like two days ago and let me tell you I WILL be upset about it until I die. No spoilers in this fic, obviously, at least not until it's fully out of theaters because then it's just your own fault. anyway, enjoy.

"How the hell did we get here?" Steve asked, clambering out of Bucky's parents' car.

"No idea," Bucky replied, scooting out after him. They both squinted against the bright August sunlight up at their new dorm. 

Summer had been a blur of working minimum wage jobs and water fights in Bucky's backyard. Before he knew it, Steve was packing up all his things, renting the apartment out, and moving everything he owned into Bucky's garage. Just a few days later, they were piling everything else into the Barnes' little economy car and making the trip from Brooklyn to Manhattan for Bucky's first day of preseason training.

"I'm nervous," Steve said, softly so that only Bucky could hear, as they unloaded the trunk.

"Don't be!" Bucky said. "It's going to be so much fun. You'll get to do your art, all the time, and since we're roommates, we're basically just going to be having a sleepover every single night. Just like when we were kids."

"I seem to recall a sleepover happening not so long ago," Mrs. Barnes called over her shoulder, a box under her arm. "I don't think you can really be calling yourselves kids for much longer."

"Exactly, it'll be just like it's always been," Bucky said, taking this in stride. "My point is, you don't have to worry. We're going to be side by side the whole time. 'Cause I'm with you--"

"To the end of the line, I know," Steve finished for him, giving him a grateful look and then bending to pick up a box. "I know. It's going to be fine. It's going to be great. But I'm still nervous."

"Get him some liquid courage for those nerves then, huh?" Bucky's dad leaned in conspiratorially as he said this. "I mean," he added, lifting his head and pretending like he'd been caught. "Don't drink, kids! And definitely don't do drugs." He threw them a wink, and led the way into the cool, air-conditioned lobby of the dorm.

By the time they had managed many trips of hauling all their possessions from the car to the elevator and then from the elevator down the hall to their new room, Steve felt like he was ready to pass out. He took a breather on a bench in the lobby while Bucky's parents said their goodbyes ("Look at my boy, all grown up." "I'm going to miss you so much!" "You live an hour away from me, I think it's going to be fine."). Bucky's dad motioned for Steve to come join the group hug, and Steve couldn't refuse.

When they pulled away, Bucky's mom took one of Steve's hand. "Now if you need anything, you just call me, you hear? I promised Sarah, God rest her soul, that I would take care of you, and I will. All right?"

"All right," Steve said half incredibly embarrassed and half deeply touched. "Thank you."

She smiled and dropped his hand, and let her husband guide her back to the car. And just like that, they were gone, and the room was quiet.

"Well, I don't know about you," Bucky said jovially, "but I'm beat. We still have some time before my first practice. Whaddya say we find some lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Steve agreed, following him out the door.

* * *

Bucky made friends quite easily. He kept dragging Steve around to meet people--"And this is John, I met him at dinner--". By the beginning of orientation, Steve could hardly remember his own name, let alone anyone else's. 

He spent a lot of time in their room. Since Bucky was away at practice pretty much all day, and by the time he got back he was so tired he couldn't hold much conversation, Steve was on his own. He ended up exploring the city a little bit, never venturing more than a few blocks from their building. He found a cafe not too far from the dorm, and dropped off a resume, since he knew he was going to need work. They agreed to hire him, so once that was settled, Steve spent the rest of the summer putting a little extra padding in his bank account.

Once orientation began, he got to see Bucky a lot more frequently. There were mandatory assemblies and activities that excused Bucky from his endless preseason practices and lifts, so Steve actually got to eat meals with him, and really catch up. 

"I like the team," Bucky told him. "It's a lot of fun, and Coach is really cool. And I like the weight room. Just you wait," he said, grinning, "I'm gonna get huge. They're gonna call me 'Brick House Barnes'." 

"Yeah, right," Steve snorted, trying not to imagine it. "You're way too big as it is, especially for bein' my friend. You get any bigger, you're gonna end up stepping on me."

"Nah," Bucky said. "I've known you for too long, I can't possibly lose track of you like that at this point. Hey!" He pointed his fork at Steve, eyes lighting up. "You know, you have to do some kind of P.E. requirement to graduate."

Steve groaned. "Don't you think they're let me get out of it? I'm sure I can get a doctor's note just on the asthma alone."

"Yeah, _or_ you could use it," Bucky said. "I mean, 'm not saying you have to. Like, if you're comfortable where you are, that's fine. Honestly, I dunno how I'd feel if you started putting on muscle. But you could always take lifting as your P.E. credit. Maybe then you wouldn't get punched so much."

"No matter how strong I got, even if I could, I'm still shorter than your average fifteen-year-old." Steve rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't matter."

"It's just an option, I'm just saying." Bucky went back to his food. "Registration's coming up, is all."

Registration went surprisingly well for both him and Bucky. Steve got the intro art class he needed, Bucky got his business prerequisite, and they both ended up in the same biology lecture and lab. Steve didn't sign up for the P.E. course, figuring he'd have enough adjusting to do without it. _Maybe next semester,_ he thought to himself, _or next year._

Steve's scholarship covered all his textbooks, to his great relief, because he didn't need anything else to be worried about. Adjusting to a whole new environment, with ten times as many classmates as he was used to, was plenty. Though, honestly, he hadn't really encountered real bullies since sophomore year of high school, college felt daunting, and he also always had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he got left alone was that everyone at their high school had finally learned that if you messed with Steve Rogers, you'd get Bucky Barnes' heel on your ass. 

But day one of classes came, and it quickly became evident to Steve that no one at university had the time or the energy for bullying. All anyone wanted was to pass their classes, get enough sleep, and party hard maybe once every couple of weekends or so. No one was trying to step on anyone else because they were all exhausted, and everyone knew that undergraduates were at the bottom of the food chain anyway, in a much more important survival game called Real Life.

"Damn, Rogers, week three and you haven't had so much as a cut knuckle, never mind a black eye or a broken bone. What's going on?" Bucky joked when Steve returned to their room from a late night studio art lecture. "You finally sick of picking fights with every bozo you have the misfortune of comin' across?"

Steve just shrugged, putting down his things. "I guess no one cares once they get into college," he replied. "About things that don't directly concern them. No one has the energy to mouth off, and quite honestly, I'm glad, because I don't think I'd have the energy to tell them off for it."

"Yeah, you would," Bucky said knowingly, and Steve had to grin.

"Yeah, I would."

"So, ya got any homework?"

"Nothing pressing." Steve shrugged. "Some sketches due on Tuesday, and a presentation for history on Friday. Oh, and that damn lab assignment."

"Yeah," Bucky said, getting a sour look on his face. "God, I'm really startin' to _hate_ that class."

"Really?" Steve asked, flopping down on his bed and raising his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "I thought you loved science, though."

"I do," Bucky protested. "I like _learnin'_ about it, but I don't like gettin' tested on it. I think the flying cars that upperclassman, whatshisname, Stark? I think they're cool, and I wanna know more, but I wouldn't want to be asked to make one."

"I guess that's fair." Steve rolled onto his back, linking his fingers behind his head. "Do you want to work on that now, then? The lab assignment, I mean, not Stark's cars."

"I know what you mean, punk," Bucky retorted. Steve smiled; though he couldn't see Bucky, he could practically hear the eye-roll in his tone. "And no, not tonight. It's Friday, I've had a killer week and I know you have too. We can do it tomorrow. I have a surprise."

Steve turned his head, curious, to see Bucky holding up a bottle of amber liquid. Squinting, he read the word "whiskey" on the bottle.

"Got it from one of my teammates," Bucky said with a grin. "They're all having a party tomorrow night--which I'm going to, and you're invited, by the way--and I asked them to get me a handle while they were out getting supplies this afternoon."

"Do you have to save it for the party?" Steve asked cautiously.

"No, this is just for me. And you, obviously." Bucky held it out to him. "You don't have to, but I thought it would be fun if we got drunk together tonight."

"Really took your dad's advice, huh?" Steve said, laughing, hopping off the bed and taking the bottle. Bucky clambered off his bed, too, and went to the bookshelf to retrieve two shot glasses. 

"Just don't go overboard."

"I will never go overboard again," Steve said fervently, recalling a night when they were sixteen that he'd spent a majority of on the bathroom floor, puking his guts up.

Bucky handed him a shot glass full of whiskey, and extended his to him to clink. Steve obliged, and screwed his eyes shut, tossing it to the back of his throat. 

"Jesus, Buck, I don't know how to drink the stuff," Steve choked out. Bucky just passed him a Gatorade, which Steve accepted gratefully.

"You just gotta get used to it," Bucky defended. "Besides, whiskey's actually pretty good."

"Is it, though?" Steve asked, eyes still watering. "At least vodka just tastes like rubbing alcohol."

"That's worse," Bucky argued. "So anyway. I feel like we never have a chance to talk. It honestly feels like we're going to two different schools. Tell me about your life. Met any girls?"

Steve swallowed a grimace. "No. Too busy, anyway, even if I was interesting to girls." He peered up at Bucky, trying to hide his apprehension. "Uh, you?"

To his relief, Bucky shook his head. "No, me either. Honestly, I dunno. Football's got me so busy anyway, if I barely have time to see you, my best friend _and roommate_ , how would I have time to also have a girlfriend?"

"Well, you could always move me down on your priority list."

"Yeah, right," Bucky snorted. "My ma would never let me hear the end of it. Besides, I like hangin' out with you better, anyway."

"Really?" Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Surely not."

"I'm serious." Bucky took another swig of the whiskey, straight from the bottle this time. "I don't have to pretend to be anything around you. You know me too well for that. And you make me laugh."

Steve hoped to God he wasn't blushing. Bucky passed him the bottle. "Well, thanks, that's nice to know. I think it goes without saying that I prefer your company to basically anyone else's. Take that however you want, though, because you ain't got much competition."

Bucky laughed, and Steve let the sound soothe him through his next shot. He closed his eyes against the burn of the liquor and the burn of his stupid desire. _It doesn't mean anything,_ he told himself harshly. _The sooner you learn to let it go, the better. ___

__But how could he? He'd been in love with Bucky for years now, and nothing had gotten in the way of the feeling. _Nobody_ had ever gotten in the way of the feeling, and Steve was beginning to resign himself to the thought that no one ever would._ _

__He lay back in bed, letting Bucky rattle on about practice, and their upcoming games, throwing in an assuring, "Yeah, of course I'll come, Buck," because he would, even though it terrified him. His mind drifted into memory, the day he first met Bucky. He was seven, and alone on the playground. He'd just been knocked face-first into the wood chips by some kids a couple years above him. He'd called them out for teasing the girls in his class who decided to wear skirts that day, and they'd invited him to a fistfight after school let out. Of course, he had accepted, and so there he lay, a black eye lurking beneath his skin, ready to bloom from red to deep purple, and wood chips in his mouth. He was pretty sure he had at least three splinters._ _

__He'd scrambled over onto his back, expecting to see the hulking figures of the three boys looming above him, ready to strike, but instead, all he saw was grey sky. Confused, he propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at the playground in front of him. His glasses had been knocked off his face, and in the blur he saw a new boy, big as the rest of them, throwing punches in Steve's place. The three bullies fled the scene pretty quickly, and the new boy turned around and, panting, offered Steve a hand to help him to his feet._ _

__Steve accepted it, still winded from his fall. "Thanks," he said softly. "I had 'em on the ropes."_ _

__"Sure ya did," the other kid said. Steve saw a spark of amusement in his grey eyes. "My name's James Barnes, but only my mom calls me that. You can call me Bucky. What's your name?"_ _

__"S-Steve. Steve Rogers." Steve blinked at him in confusion, unsure why they were continuing the conversation. "Are you in my class?"_ _

__"Yeah, I sit in the back." Bucky handed Steve his glasses. Steve took them and shoved them on his face, embarrassed. "Seen your drawings," Bucky added. "You're really good, you know."_ _

__"Oh. Thanks." Steve didn't know what to do with his hands._ _

__"C'mon," Bucky had said, jerking his head in the direction of the street. "I live just a block or two from here. You'll wanna get some ice on that eye. And I bet you don't want your ma to see it, anyway. I'll check with mine, but I don't think she'll mind you stayin' the night, if you can phone home."_ _

__Taken aback, but immensely pleased, Steve stuttered out his thanks, and followed Bucky home. He kept himself a half step behind him the whole time, and it had been like that ever since._ _

__"But you will come tomorrow?" Bucky's voice jolted Steve back into the present._ _

__"The party?" Steve confirmed. "I dunno, Buck... I mean, I got work to do. And you're the only one that wants me there." _Who else matters, anyway?_ Steve argued with himself silently._ _

__"I know, it's gonna be loud and social and kinda not your thing. But you said it yourself. College is different. People are tired of that social ladder bullshit," Bucky said. "Maybe it'll be different. Around the guys, at the very least. Maybe it'll be fine."_ _

__"I'll think about it," Steve said._ _

__"Yeah, sleep on it," Bucky agreed. "Cause I'm beat. I'm going to bed."_ _

__Steve laughed. "All right, I guess that means I am, too."_ _

__When he was falling asleep that night, Steve rolled over and strained his eyes against the darkness to see Bucky's sleeping form across the room. He watched the rise and fall of his chest. One of his arms was slung above his head; the other dangled over the edge of the bed. His fingers twitched--he was having a dream. Steve's fingers twitched, too, the only overt expression Steve could ever allow himself of how much he wanted to touch Bucky, to hold him, not as a best friend--but he knew it would never happen._ _

__Sighing, he turned to face the wall and let many weeks' worth of exhaustion mix with the alcohol and wash him away to sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading! pls leave ur thots and onions in the comments! if you wanna hmu you can find me on my [Tumblr!](www.sailor-sleepy.tumblr.com/ask)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back.

Steve ended up going to that party, and a lot of other parties after that. Before he knew it, it was exam period, and then he was heading back to Brooklyn for winter break. Bucky's parents kindly offered to let him stay with them during break so that he didn't have to worry about kicking the renter out of his apartment, and Bucky even went with him to check in on it just to see how they were. Christmas came and passed. Steve used some of his savings to buy Bucky a nice stationery and pen set; Bucky had got him a bunch of new pencils for his sketching. 

"I'm gonna study abroad next fall," Bucky announced, a few days before they had to go back to school.

"Oh?" Steve said, trying to swallow his surprise and disappointment. "Where?"

"Germany," Bucky said. "I think it'll be cool. And I've been taking German since I was a kid, so I can't really go anywhere else."

_You could stay here,_ Steve thought. "What will your coach say? Aren't you guys in season?" is what he said instead.

"Well, yeah, but we've got a lot of guys. And I'm still pretty low on the list." Bucky shrugged. "They won't need me."

_What about me?_ Steve found himself thinking, before he could stop himself. _I'll need you._

"Guess I better not get into any fights, then," Steve joked. "Won't have anyone to help me out of 'em."

"Shut up, Rogers, you haven't gotten into a fight in _months_ ," Bucky replied. "And you're making friends. You'll be fine."

"Will I," Steve asked wryly. "No, 'm just kidding. I'll be fine. And you'll have a lot of fun."

"You could also study abroad," Bucky suggested. "Come with me."

Steve's heart did a little somersault in his chest. "I can't," he said. "Art major is too many credits. Besides, that's just more money I have to worry about."

"But it's all paid for."

"That doesn't mean I should just take advantage of it with reckless abandon," Steve retorted. "Besides," he added, trying to lighten the mood, "I don't think a plane and I would agree."

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, maybe not."

* * *

The second semester quickly kicked into gear. The football team wasn't in season anymore, so Bucky was dragging Steve out to parties every weekend. He had a string of girlfriends, which Steve tried very hard to keep track of. As for himself, Steve couldn't catch the interest of anybody. It came not as a surprise, but still as a disappointment. 

The thing was, he liked girls, too. Bi, he supposed would be the label if he had to give himself one. But it didn't really matter, because the only thing that _did_ matter was Bucky Barnes. 

Steve decided to put his P.E. requirement off again. "I'll do it next year, I promise," he told Bucky. 

"Just don't leave it to senior year, 'cause you'll regret it," Bucky warned.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Varsity Athlete, sir," Steve replied stiffly, giving him a very sarcastic salute. He was rewarded with a pillow to the face.

As for the rest of his classes, he was doing fine. His drawing professor was delighted with his work, and for once he felt like he had his head above the water in math. He and Bucky took yet another distribution requirement together (intro psychology this time), and spent nights up late trying to memorize Freud's stages of psychosexual development. 

"Did anyone actually believe this shit?" Bucky groaned. "What the hell is this man on about?"

"On about? No idea. _On?_ Cocaine." Steve felt his chest warm when Bucky laughed. "He was German... you still sure about that semester abroad?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Professor Wink is also German," Bucky shot back, "and you said he's the smartest man you've met."

"I know, I'm kidding." Steve sighed and turned back to his book. "Dunno why he teaches this, though. He even said he believes Freud's work to be autobiographical fantasy."

"Freud needed therapy so bad that he invented it himself," Bucky grumbled. "I diagnose him with being stuck in the anal stage, because his head is all the way up his ass."

Steve couldn't stop the bright peals of laughter from escaping his throat.

* * *

Rooming together, however, proved to be difficult in a way that Steve didn't expect. The semester before, because Bucky was in season, he took most of his showers down at the gym, so he never really showered in their dorm. Now, though, Steve got almost daily eyefuls of a shirtless Bucky, towel slung around his waist, hair dripping and beads of water making his skin glisten. And because he'd had a whole semester of working out with his team, he'd filled out even more--abs that didn't go away, even if he tried to puff his stomach out; arms of smooth, hard muscle; shoulders so wide sometimes Steve was impressed that he could fit through the door. 

And it was starting to drive Steve just a little bit insane. _I need horse blinders,_ he thought to himself in miserable humor. _How am I supposed to act normal around him when he's walking around looking like_ that _?_

It wasn't like Steve hadn't seen Bucky naked before. But usually then it was just quick glimpses, when Bucky was coming out of the shower at one of their places, and Steve was heading in. And he was smaller then, so it was less impressive (Steve supposed rather vainly). The seemingly sudden change was like whiplash to Steve's eyes and dumb little heart. 

Fortunately for Steve, Bucky didn't seem to notice if he stuttered more, or if he couldn't quite look him in the eye. Steve didn't know what he'd do if he did. A small, weak part of him liked to entertain the fantasy that Bucky would be interested in him, but he usually shoved it aside, because the concept was just completely absurd. Bucky was straight, to the best of Steve's knowledge, which he figured was pretty reliable as far as knowledge came, since he was the person Bucky was closest to, except maybe his mom. And even if, on the off chance, he _was_ into guys, Steve couldn't imagine that he would be his type. No one could want a sickly eighteen year old, who looked like he was twelve, and who looked like he'd completely fall apart at the slightest touch.

In the grand scheme of things, though, it was only a small hiccup in an otherwise smooth semester. Steve was doing better than he'd ever done, was making friends and getting along with people. Frequently he wished his mother could see him now--how proud she'd be, how happy. It was a bittersweet thought.

But still, there was a little hole growing ever larger in Steve's heart as the semester drew to a close. He was going to be _fine_ , working with one of his professors over the summer on an art project and getting paid for it--but every day that passed, every breath he drew, brought him closer to the day that Bucky was going to fly to another entire continent. Since the day they met, they'd never spent more than a couple of weeks without seeing each other, and now Steve was expected to survive four whole months? 

He made light of it, joking that he wouldn't even be able to recognize Bucky when he got back, that he'd have to relearn all of Bucky's habits, but it was the furthest thing from the truth. _I will always recognize you,_ Steve thought to himself, blinking across the quiet darkness of their room the night before finals began. The floor was swept, clear of everything except boxes of their things. He traced the lines of Bucky's body with his eyes, even though he knew them as well as his own. _No matter what happens, no matter how much time we spend apart, no matter what our lives do to change us._ It was like a vow, a prayer. He drank in the early summer sun sparkling off the sheen of sweat on Bucky's skin as they loaded all their things into his parent's car. The images were already set in his mind, memorized long, long ago. 

At the airport, Steve hovered with Bucky's parents at the edge of security as Bucky did one last check of his bags. 

"All right," Bucky said, straightening and giving all three of them a blinding smile. "It looks like I'm all set." He held his arms out to his mom. Once he was released, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and turned to Steve. Backing up, he called. "Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back."

"How can I?" Steve asked, pushing his sadness down so that Bucky couldn't hear it. "You're taking all the stupid with you."

Bucky must've heard it anyway, because he stopped, and, shaking his head, walked back over to him. "Punk," he said, softly, pulling Steve in for a hug.

"Jerk," Steve replied, stretching his chin up so that he could see over Bucky's shoulder, clapping his hands against Bucky's back. He waited with Bucky's parents until Bucky was through security, and then turned away, the feeling of Bucky's arms around him still making his skin tingle. _I would know you anywhere_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty as always for reading! let me know what you think, or come harass me on my [Tumblr!](www.sailor-sleepy.tumblr.com/ask)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! sorry this is coming out a little late, it's the end of the semester and I've been packing all day because I have to be entirely moved out of my room in approximately 36 hours haha! Please enjoy!

Steve ended up with a guy on Bucky's team, Brock Rumlow, as a roommate for his sophomore year. Rumlow was a bit of a tough guy, and kind of taciturn, but he seemed to like Steve, and apparently found him somewhat endearing, so Steve figured it was better than someone random.

And Steve did sign up for that P.E. class. Somehow, over the last couple weeks of summer, he'd started growing. It wasn't completely unheard of for young men to hit their growth spurts at the age of nineteen, but it still shocked him. By the time their P.E. classes were scheduled to begin, in late September, Steve was skinnier than ever, and always hungry. The football guys, who were experts at weaseling their way into more food from the dining halls, snuck him snacks and extra plates at meals, laughing and going on about how they couldn't wait for him to bulk up.

Steve laughed along with him, glad to have some semblance of camaraderie, but he was a little scared for himself. For one thing, suddenly none of his clothes fit. He was worried he was still growing, so he didn't want to go buy anymore until he was sure he was at a stable size. Rumlow graciously lent him pants and t-shirts so that he wouldn't go to class looking like a thumb. 

Day one of lifting was very intimidating. Despite all his growth, Steve was still shorter than everyone there, and definitely way skinnier. There was an assistant coach, a junior girl named Peggy Carter, who greeted them as soon as they had all assembled in the weight room.

"My name is Margaret Carter. My friends call me Peggy, but you will call me Coach." She paced in front of them, speaking in a clipped British accent. "I am a junior, I'm majoring in peace and justice and political science, and I will be supervising this class."

"What's with the accent, Queen Victoria?" one of the guys in the back called out. There were scattered snickers. "Thought I was at New York University."

"What's your name?" Peggy asked him levelly. 

"Gilmore Hodge, your Majesty," he shot back, the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk.

"Step forward, Hodge," Peggy commanded. 

He did as he was told, still smirking, till they were only a few feet apart.

"Put your right foot forward."

He did as he was told, but slowly. "Mmm, we gonna wrassle? Cause I got a few moves I know you'd like." He cocked his head, giving him a look that made Steve's blood boil.

Peggy regarded him for a moment like he was an unlucky fly she'd found underfoot. Then, without warning, and so fast that Steve almost missed it entirely, she reared back and punched him in the face. Steve bit back a shout of laughter as Hodge crumpled to the ground, clutching his cheek.

A man walked up behind Peggy. He was older, judging by the lines on his face, but no less fit than any of the other coaches Steve had seen wandering the gym. "Coach Carter," he greeted, nodding to Peggy with a grin.

"Coach Phillips," she responded, nodding back and brushing off the front of her pants with almost imperceptible sheepishness.

Coach Phillips didn't seem fazed. "I see you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good!" He turned to Hodge. "Get your ass up off the ground and stand with the rest of the group 'til somebody comes tells you what to do." His gaze was inscrutable, but hard. 

"Yes, sir." Hodge scrambled to his feet and retreated into the little cluster of students. Steve couldn't help but smile to himself. It was good to see that assholes couldn't get away with anything in this gym.

"You're here because you wanna get strong." Phillips addressed the group as a whole. "And you will. We're gonna make you better--" his gaze swept over Steve, and he saw (understandable) disappointment flicker behind his eyes. "--much better, whether you like it or not. But you gotta show up, you gotta make an effort, otherwise it's gonna be like pulling teeth the whole way, for all of us. Now, who's ready to get to work?"

Peggy, as strict as she was, seemed to take a liking to Steve, and took him under her wing. While everyone else was adding loads of weight to their bars, Peggy was in the corner with Steve, teaching him technique with a PVC pipe. Slowly, she shifted him to dumbbells, and then finally the barbell. They'd eat meals together often. Steve was surprised at her ability to put up with the football guys, though he guessed he really shouldn't be. Occasionally, one of them, or more often, someone else, would try to hit on her, but she would only come back with sharp quips that had the whole table roaring with laughter. And in the rare event that someone said something genuinely patronizing and misogynistic, Peggy would be the first to her feet, ready with verbal and, only if necessary, physical retribution.

"She's fucking hilarious," Steve told Bucky over FaceTime one evening. "I've never met anyone like her. And she's so smart, too."

"Sounds like a crush to me," Bucky said. 

Steve felt like he'd just been shot three times--the first, for not realizing on his own that maybe he really was interested in Peggy, the second, that Bucky could see that so plainly but never realized Steve's feelings for him in all the years they'd known each other, and the third, that he could ever imagine liking someone the way he liked Bucky.

"No," Steve denied immediately. "...Maybe. I don't know. I just don't know what to do."

"Oh, if only I were there to help you," Bucky said. "Maybe I could ask Brock--"

"If you breathe a word to anybody, you're no longer my friend," Steve threatened. "Besides, I don't even know if I like her that much. I mean, maybe I just feel like this because she's the first girl to be nice to me. Maybe it'll just be nice to have a girl-spacebar-friend for once, you know? No need to push it."

"Whatever you say." Bucky shrugged, running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey, are your knuckles bruised?" Steve asked, leaning closer to his phone. 

"Oh." Bucky flipped his hand over and laughed. "Yeah, it is. I was at the gym, dropped a barbell on my hand. Hurt like a bitch."

Steve tried to relax his brow, but the worry remained. "Okay, well... I mean, don't go channelling me, not when you're so far away from home."

"I'm fine, Steve. I'm not fighting anyone. The only time I fight people is when they're about to kill you."

He decided to let it go. "Well, aside from your gym mishaps, how is Germany?"

"It's good!" Bucky replied. "I'm learning a lot, and my German is improving so much. The food is great. But I miss New York. I miss the guys. And you."

Steve's heart lunged for his throat. "I miss you, too," he said quickly. "You'll be back soon. The team's been really great to me. Are you paying them or something?"

"Of course not," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "They just actually like you. I've been texting with a couple of 'em, and they're all like, 'Dude, I had no idea Rogers was so cool!' 'I guess not all art students have a superiority complex and speak in metaphor...' And they're pretty happy you introduced them to Peggy."

Steve bristled. "I hope they realize she's not interested in any of them."

"You sure that's not a crush, Rogers?"

"Shut up."

"No, hey, listen I support you--"

"Bucky, just leave it." Steve heaved a rather tired breath, and Bucky's smile dropped off his face. "I'm sorry. I just... I got a lot more goin' on that's more important than a girl. That's all."

"I know." Bucky paused. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." The conversation felt stunted, though, and a grey kind of sadness draped itself over Steve's shoulders. "Things'd just be easier if you were here."

"Is something... wrong?" Bucky's eyebrows crumpled.

 _Yes!_ Steve wanted to scream. _How can I even begin to explain? I'm not fully myself without you! And I'm forgetting your smell, I'm forgetting exactly who you are as my mind warps your image with the distance and the bitter stain of longing, and I'm lonely, and only you can fill that hole, not the football guys, not even Peggy--_

"Steve?"

Steve blinked. "No," he said. "I'm just tired. The football guys are great, and my friends are great, but sometimes it's hard to feel comfortable around people I don't know that well."

"I know," Bucky said again. "Believe it or not, I'm also having trouble with friends. I have people I hang out with, but I spent a lot of my time alone in coffee shops." He laughed. "It gives me plenty of time to study though."

"Sounds kind of peaceful."

Bucky shrugged. "It's more peaceful than New York, but that's not saying much."

"Actually, it's quite peaceful here without you," Steve quipped. Bucky laughed, and Steve felt a cold drop of concern and longing settle into his stomach.

* * *

Normally, Steve was pretty good at controlling his own thoughts, and banishing the unhelpful or untoward ones, but there was one area of his life where this wasn't true. And maybe it was that, on top of the loneliness, but he found his mind fixated on Bucky, more than he thought he would--when he was jacking off.

It wasn't unprecedented, but Steve had always tried his best to keep his mind _off_ Bucky because it just felt wrong. And, for the most part, in the past he'd been pretty successful. Until recently. 

It was stupid--he felt like a freshman in high school again. He'd gotten kind of good at suppressing his sex drive, mainly just situationally because it wasn't like he had any other option, but now all it took was his mind straying for one second too long to Bucky's chest, Bucky's abs, Bucky's hands, and suddenly his only goal in life was to lock himself in his room, towel stuffed in his mouth (because dorm walls are _thin_ ), fist over his dick until he came, and the guilt washed over him in waves.

He'd almost been caught a couple times, too, which terrified him. He'd just be shrugging his shirt back on when Rumlow would come strolling into the room, and each time Steve nearly screamed out, before whirling around quickly to face and wall and hide his burning cheeks.

It made him feel even worse when Bucky's family offered to let him stay again over winter break. Bucky had called to tell them that he had a couple things to finish up where he was, and wouldn't be coming home until a day or two before spring classes started up. Seeing that it would be just Steve and Bucky's parents, and Steve honestly didn't know how he would be able to look Bucky's mom in the eye, he couldn't take them up on the offer to let him stay. Luckily, the school allowed students to stay in their dorms over break, and with Rumlow going home to his folks, Steve was left to wallow in peace.

He spent most of break organizing his school things, cleaning, and finally going out and getting himself some new clothes that actually fit. It was crazy to see his new sizes--somehow, in the last seven months or so, he had cleared six feet, and built up substantial muscle. He wasn't _huge_ like some of the football guys, and other varsity athletes that he'd come across in the gym, but he was definitely built now, with clear definition. At the end of the semester, when they had done their "after" pictures for the lifting class, Peggy had given him a quick once-over that made Steve feel like his body was on fire--but not in a way he necessarily minded. And he could've sworn that he saw her fingers twitch. So he was using that as a metric of how much change he'd underwent as well.

New Year's passed uneventfully for Steve. He'd gotten a small bottle of champagne from one of the upperclassmen in the lift class, which he drank by himself in his room while sketching. That night, facing the wall, the thought that put him to sleep was that he'd be seeing Bucky the following evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments, or come say hi to me on my [Tumblr](www.sailor-sleepy.tumblr.com/ask), which is overall just full of MCU nonsense :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! When you'll be reading this, I'll actually be on vacation, so I've drafted this whole thing and hopefully I'll be able to post it on my phone since I won't have my computer this coming friday as I'll be out of town. If not, this will be an apology instead, full of regret about not just posting it when i had the chance at home. anyway, enjoy, and please do take a look at my note at the end as well!

Steve woke up late the next morning--which was fine, it just meant he wouldn't have time to see Bucky before going to the optional lift class he promised Peggy he'd attend. 

He sent Bucky a text about where he was, and asked if he could meet him for lunch instead, and then jogged the rest of the way to the gym. 

"Almost late, Rogers," Peggy said. Her tone was sharp, but her smile was warm. Coach Philips looked up at Steve from his clipboard through his eyebrows and didn't say anything. "Now then. Let's begin."

When Steve got out of the shower after the class, Bucky still hadn't answered his text. Now rather troubled, Steve ate lunch with Peggy, and then went to the bookstore to pick up his textbooks.

He called Bucky once he was back in his room, but it went straight to voicemail. He hung up, and called back again, in case Bucky had accidentally left his phone on do not disturb, but it was voicemail again.

"Hey, Buck, it's me," Steve said, pacing around his room. "Ah, listen, I don't know if you saw my text, but I'm hoping you got back to campus all right. I've got a meeting with my major advisor in an hour, but after that maybe I could come see you? Let me know. I... I'm just a little worried about you not answering and all. You've probably just left your phone on airplane mode, though." He laughed to himself, trying not to sound panicked. "Anyway, if you don't reply, I'll swing by your room tonight, okay? I'll... I'll bring over some sushi or something. So... hope you're all right. See you soon. Bye."

Steve hung up, and leaned against the edge of his desk. A shock of anxiety ran through him. _You're just overreacting_ , he thought to himself firmly, trying to force himself to relax. _It's fine, and if you don't calm down, you're gonna have an asthma attack._

He took a deep breath and began to gather his things for his meeting. But the thought still lingered: what if Bucky _wasn't_ okay? He remembered the bruising he'd seen on Bucky's knuckles, the one time when Bucky had kept the lights off during their FaceTime call because he said the rest of the house was asleep and he was worried the lights would keep people up--but when he turned his phone too much to the side, Steve could've sworn he'd caught the glimpse of a black eye.

But he would tell Steve, wouldn't he, if he were in trouble? That's what best friends were for, right, they were people who you could tell anything to? Unless... unless it was big enough trouble that Bucky was afraid that telling Steve would put him in danger as well? 

_Don't be overdramatic,_ he chastised himself crossly. _You're college students. The biggest trouble you get into is being hungover and sleeping through your classes._

After his meeting, Steve jogged across the street from the art building to the little Asian mart that sold snacks. As he was waiting in line to pay for the sushi, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Bucky.

_**Sorry, Steve, just got your messages. It was on airplane mode and I've been sleeping off the jet lag. Sushi sounds nice, but I might be asleep when you come over.** _

Steve frowned. If he didn't know better, it kind of sounded like Bucky was telling him to stay away. He flipped his phone over in his hand, and considered putting the sushi back.

_But what if he needs your help? You know he's never been good at asking for it,_ a little voice in Steve's head piped up. _Just like you,_ it added snidely. _If he really didn't want to see you, he'll make that clear as soon as you arrive, and you can just drop of the sushi and know you did your best. But at least go._

Steve sighed, and paid for the food, then hurried back to the dorm, texting Bucky that he was on his way. Bucky was living a couple of floors up, so Steve skipped past his room entirely and went right up to Bucky's door.

He knocked gently. "Buck? It's me, it's Steve. Are you up?" He paused. No response. His heart paused in his chest. "Can I come in?"

"Steve?" It was Bucky, but it sounded faint. "Yeah, it's unlocked."

Steve breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and pushed the door open. The room was dark; in the corner, he could see Bucky huddled on his bed. He reached for the light switch, and he saw Bucky flinch as the lights came on.

Bucky was slumped against the wall, holding a bag of something up to his eye. The back of his hand was all cut and bruised. He had a couple scars on his cheek and an open wound on his visible cheekbone. 

Steve stopped in his tracks, letting the door swing shut behind him with a loud bang. "I... You... you're starting to look like I used to... sitting there in the corner like that, I thought you were dead!"

Bucky removed the bag--Steve could see it was frozen peas now--to look at Steve properly, revealing a swollen and darkened eye.

"I thought you were smaller," he replied dryly, and Steve couldn't help but smile. He set the sushi down on Bucky's dresser and crossed the room to him.

"Let me see that," Steve said, pointing to his hand. He flipped it over and frowned, then reached into Bucky's backpack for antiseptic and bandages.

"So what happened to you?" Bucky asked, letting Steve take care of him.

_What happened to ME?_ Steve wanted to spit back, appalled. _What happened to YOU, Buck?_ But he didn't say it. "I joined lifting. Turns out once I'm finally out of puberty, and I start eating protein and working out, I don't have to be so scrawny after all. Didn't expect to grow so much, though."

"Growing, did it hurt?"

"A little." Steve pressed a bandage over the biggest cut, then went to work on Bucky's face.

"Is it permanent?" Bucky joked.

Steve had to grin. "So far!" He patted a small bandage over the cut under Bucky's eye, and then tried to turn Bucky's head to inspect the other side.

Bucky strained himself out of Steve's reach. "All right, that's enough, Mother Rogers," he said. "I can handle it." He nodded to the plastic bag on his dresser. "Is that sushi?"

"Sure is," Steve said, getting up to retrieve it. "Seriously, though, Buck, what is going on? What did you get caught up in?"

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. "I dunno, I was just... Some of 'em, over there, they started saying shit and... and like, I was like, what would Steve do? Steve wouldn't let this go, I can't let it go..." He shook his head, laughing humorlessly. "I'm becoming you. And you're becoming me. This is... this is ridiculous."

"Well, you're home now, and safe, so it doesn't matter anymore. Is this why you were acting like you didn't want to see me?" Steve asked, afraid.

"I just... I didn't want you to freak out--I'm fine, you know, I'm fine."

"Yeah, sure you are," Steve replied, rolling his eyes. "But I can look out for you, too, you know, now. Especially now." 

"You always have," Bucky said. There was a tremor in his voice; he released it into the air, and there it hung, between him and Steve. "Even before all this, when you were just some skinny little kid from Brooklyn."

There was a pause. And still the tremor hung, between the two of them, frozen with them and their hands, both reaching for more sushi, inches apart. The wrong hand unblemished, the wrong hand black and blue. 

Steve cleared his throat. "Uh, is your roommate back yet?"

"No, he won't be back until tomorrow."

"Want me to stay the night?"

Bucky blinked. "Do you want to stay?"

"I can go grab my sleeping bag, it's just downstairs. I'll sleep on his bed, I hope he won't mind." Steve looked up tentatively.

"Sure. That would be nice." Bucky seemed to shake himself, almost imperceptibly. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, Buck. It's nice to have you back."

And the moment was gone, broken with their clumsy words and Steve's stupid heart, throwing itself against his ribs. They finished up the food, and Bucky offered to clean up so that Steve could go grab his things.

Steve had only drifted off to sleep when he was woken by sounds of struggle, coming from across the room. He stumbled out of his sleeping bag and jumped to his feet, turning, only to find Bucky, legs twisted in his sheets, face twisted in pain, having a nightmare.

"Bucky, hey," he said softly, shaking him slightly, sitting sideways on the edge of his bed. "Hey, wake up."

Bucky's hand flew to Steve's forearm and he clamped down, hard, hard enough to leave marks, as his eyes opened. For an instant he seemed like he didn't even recognize Steve; there was something wild and unknown in his eyes that made fear shoot down Steve's back like an ice cube, and left him feeling uneasy, but then Bucky's gaze and grip softened, and he was Steve's Bucky again, just tired and scared.

"Steve," he mumbled. "Did I wake you up? 'M sorry."

"It's okay." Steve wanted to reach out, smooth the lines between Bucky's eyebrows and all up his forehead with the pads of his thumbs. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky gave himself a shake. "Fine. Just a nightmare."

"Wanna... talk about it?" Steve ventured carefully.

But Bucky shook his head. "Nah, better not."

"Wanna go back to bed then?" Steve moved to get up.

"Yes, but wait--" Bucky said quickly, "wait. Will you... sit, just there, until I fall asleep?"

Confused, perhaps a bit alarmed, but also a little pleased, Steve slowly lowered himself back down onto the bed. "Sure, Buck."

Bucky nodded his thanks, and sank back down into his bed, turning so that his back was to Steve. 

Steve watched him, watched as his breathing evened and slowed. He knew what Bucky's sleep sounded like, had memorized it before they were ten years old. But he stayed there, long after Bucky had drifted off. 

_What happened to you last semester?_ Steve thought, looking down at his best friend. _You're still you... but you're also something else. I can't quite reach you anymore. You're changed. And so am I. Is this it? Are we finally outgrowing each other?_

It was a very unfriendly thought. And though Steve eventually did return to the other bed, he couldn't sleep very well for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> So, I realize now that we're on chapter 5 and though I promised smut, there hasn't been any yet, and I am beginning to realize that while there will be plenty, it will all be later on in the fic. So if anyone's interested in a one-shot or something as an, i don't know, appetizer?? teaser/trailer? for what's to come? and introduction to my style?? lmk because now that school's out I have nothing to be doing anyway.
> 
> as always, you can find me on my [Tumblr!](www.sailor-sleepy.tumblr.com/ask)


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